


To See Another Day

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Angst, M/M, Series, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Jim and Simon had an established relationship *before* his Sentinel senses kicked in again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	To See Another Day

## To See Another Day

by Chaz

Author's webpage: <http://hoosiergirl.homepage.com>

Disclaimer: Not mine, not makin' any money. Life sure ain't fair! 

Spoilers: For "Switchman," sorta. This is set during that episode, after Jim starts having sensory problems but before he goes to see Blair at the university. 

Author's Note: This was an idea that's been rattling around the inside of my head for a while. Hope you enjoy it! Could turn into a series, depending on if y'all think it would be worth the effort. 

I would love to hear what you think about this story. Please email me at chaz83_7@yahoo.com with any comments. But please be kind - this is only the second piece of slash I've ever completed. Thanks! 

* * *

To See Another Day  
By Chaz 

"I'm losing it here!" Detective Jim Ellison exclaimed, panic brightening his tired blue eyes. "Simon, what am I gonna do?" 

'Good question,' Captain Simon Banks thought dazedly. His detective had just confided that he was seeing and hearing things that should be impossible. Under other circumstances - and with a different man - the captain might have dismissed the outrageous claims as some sort of elaborate practical joke. But Ellison had never been much of a joker, and with this Switchman nut targeting him specifically, he had been under a large amount of stress lately. Something was seriously wrong. 

Darting a quick glance at the closed office door, the big man circled his desk and knelt before his distressed detective. Taking the other man's large hands into his even larger ones, Simon said quietly, "Easy, Jim, calm down. We'll figure this out, I promise." 

Haunted eyes stared down into his. "How?" 

Simon felt his heart twist at that one despairing look. In all the time he'd known Jim, both before and after they'd become lovers, he had never seen the younger man look this vulnerable. Jim was always so in control of his emotions. Too in control, sometimes, and they'd had a couple of rough times until Jim had finally convinced himself, after a lot of hard work on Simon's part, that he could trust the older man with his heart as well as his body. 

But this was something all together different. This wasn't Jim allowing his emotional guards to drop for a moment. This was as if his control had been forcibly stripped away from him, and the detective was terrified he'd never get it back. Simon ached to take the younger man into his arms and rock away all the pain and fear plainly visible on that noble face, but here at the office, he didn't dare. With a silent curse on all prejudices, the captain settled for squeezing the icy hands between his reassuringly. 

"One step at a time, Jim, just like we've done everything else," Simon answered firmly. "Here's what we're going to do. You are going to take the rest of the day off and go see some specialists. Have some tests down, whatever it takes for them to figure out what's wrong." He sighed regretfully. "I'd go with you, but somebody's got to keep the newshounds at bay with this Switchman thing. After we get the results, we'll go from there, okay?" 

Jim nodded slowly, but dread still lurked in his sky blue eyes. Simon tightened his grip again and leaned closer. "You are _not_ in this alone, Jim," he whispered, quietly forceful. "I love you, and I'll be with you every step of the way, no matter what's wrong. Got that?" 

A faint smile graced the detective's haggard face. "Yes, sir, Captain, sir." 

Simon grinned back. "That's more like it. Now get out of my office and go see a doctor. I'll try to be home at a decent hour tonight, and I expect a full report then, detective." 

Jim nodded, a more confident gesture than before, then impulsively leaned forward and kissed the older man on the forehead. "I love you, Simon." 

"What's not to love?" 

* * *

Sliding his car into a free space in the lot behind the loft, Simon switched off the engine and automatically peered up three stories, searching for a sign of the man he loved. It was an unusually pleasant evening for April in Cascade, and the captain fully expected Jim to be out on the balcony soaking in the rare, rain-free weather. The younger man enjoyed Nature in all her myriad forms with a peculiar intensity, seemingly able to become one with the physical world without even trying. Simon didn't understand it, but he loved watching Jim when he made that connection with the elements. Those moments were among the few when the detective dropped all his guards and let the real man inside shine through. 

But strangely, Jim wasn't on the balcony tonight, nor were there any lights shining from the third floor windows. Simon frowned. Jim's jeep was parked two spaces down from his sedan, so he was fairly certain the younger man was upstairs. His lover wasn't the kind to take spontaneous walks, at least not without him, and besides, Jim knew he was coming over tonight. He wouldn't have changed plans without giving Simon a call first. 

Unless . . . All the fears and uncertainties about Jim's condition the captain had ruthlessly suppressed all day ambushed him now. Dear God, what had the doctors told him?! 

Heart thumping with sudden panic, Simon bolted across the parking lot and sprinted up the stairs. Reaching the loft door, he paused a moment to catch his breath. If the doctors _had_ given Jim bad news, the last thing the man needed was a freaked out lover on top of everything else. Once he was satisfied he looked reasonably calm, Simon unlocked the door and stepped inside. 

It was pitch-black on the other side of the door. Fumbling for the light switch, Simon called softly, "Jim?" 

"On the couch. Leave the lights off. Headache." 

Hearing the obvious pain behind the terse sentences, Simon obeyed the order. Leaving his shoes and coat by the door, he made his way to the larger of the two couches. Dropping to one knee beside the prone figure, he located one of Jim's hands and curled his fingers around it. With the other hand, he reached over and gently began to smooth away the pained lines etched into his lover's forehead. 

"Anything I can get you? Aspirin or a cold cloth, maybe?" 

Jim tilted his head into Simon's soft touch. "Just don't stop." 

The big man chuckled. "I can do you one better. Here, raise up a little for me." Coaxing Jim into a semi-sitting position, Simon settled himself onto the couch then eased the younger man back down onto his lap. Lowering his hands to Jim's head, he began a slow, steady massage of his temples. "Better?" 

"Hmm," Jim murmured gratefully. 

Smiling in the darkness, the older man continued his ministrations for a long, quiet while, moving nimble fingers from Jim's temples down the clenched jaw and eventually over his stiff neck and shoulders. Simon didn't stop until the last knot was banished from the tense man's muscles. Jim breathed a disappointed sigh when he finished. 

"Do you have to stop?" he asked plaintively. 

Just then, Simon's stomach rumbled loudly. Both men laughed. "I guess that means yes," Jim chuckled ruefully as he swung himself up beside the older man. He leaned over and gave his mate a brief but intense kiss. "Thanks, that really helped," he said sincerely. 

"Anytime, Jim," Simon replied in the same tone, putting an arm around Jim's shoulders and hugging the smaller man to his side. They sat quietly together, just soaking in each other's presence after a tense day, until the moment was interrupted by another insistent rumble of Simon's stomach. Hauling himself to his feet, Simon held out a hand to Jim. "You feel up to some dinner?" 

Jim took the offered hand and pulled himself up. "I am now. Let's see what's in the kitchen." 

As he watched the younger man rummage through the cupboards, Simon suddenly recalled his earlier panic and the reason for it. "Jim, what did the doctors have to say?" 

The detective snorted derisively. "Not a whole helluva lot. They want to take some more tests, but none of them seem to know what's going on." A frown creased the handsome face. "Except that one guy - Doctor McCoy or McCay . . ." 

"Who? What did he say?" 

"I'm not sure he _was_ a doctor," Jim admitted with a shake of his head. "Looked too young. Anyway, he just busts into the room like he owns the place and starts spouting nonsense about me being 'way ahead of the curve' or something like that. He gave me the card of someone he thought could help." Reaching into his hip pocket, he withdrew the small, white card. "Blair Sandburg," he read. "A professor of anthropology at Rainier." 

"Anthropology?" Simon repeated disbelievingly. "What the hell has anthropology got to do with runaway senses?" 

"Beats me. Maybe it was just some kind of college kid joke. I don't even know why I kept the card." Jim tossed the offending object onto the counter. "I did schedule the rest of the tests they wanted to take for tomorrow afternoon. Hope that's all right." 

Simon nodded thoughtfully. "That's fine. The sooner the doctors figure out what's wrong, the sooner I get my best man back." 

"Not partial or anything, are you, captain?" Jim teased. 

"Damn right I am," the older man replied with a grin, leaning over the kitchen island to steal a kiss from the pair of smiling lips opposite him. After a long, passionate moment that left them both gasping for air, Simon reluctantly settled back into his chair and asked, "So, what's for dinner?" 

Chuckling, Jim shook his head and surveyed the food he'd pulled from the cupboards. "I was thinking something fast and simple. Spaghetti sound okay to you?" 

"Sure," Simon agreed. "Do you need any help?" 

"Nope, I think I can handle it. You just sit there and look pretty." 

The captain snorted at the comment, and he stretched a long arm over the island to smack him. Jim's grin widened as he easily evaded the swat. The grin stayed there as he donned that hideous apron he insisted on wearing when cooking - 'I have _got_ to get him a new one' - and efficiently set about putting the meal together. Dark brown eyes following Jim's every move, Simon allowed the younger man's rare playfulness to finally push the last of the remnants of tension from the stressful day out of his mind. 

It was kind of a rule they had, one that had kept them sane over the past few years of working and loving together. Work or any other stressful event currently in their lives was not discussed while preparing or eating a meal. They got enough of that during the other hours of the day. Instead, this time was reserved simply to be together and relax as much as possible in each other's company. After they had eaten, they could sit down and discuss problems. 

Of course, actually finding the time to share a meal was difficult at the best of times, given the nature of their jobs and Simon's responsibilities to his son. Both men, though, made a concerted effort to spend at least one meal a day together, even if it was nothing more than donuts and coffee in the morning. It was their way of not losing sight of the important things in their lives - each other - the way neither had done in their marriages. 

So tonight, the two of them talked about inconsequential things - the Jags' latest streak of bad luck, whether Jim's jeep needed a tune-up or not, Daryl's upcoming track meet - and simply enjoyed the quiet time together without worrying about the Switchman or Jim's sensory problem. As they talked, Simon got the fixings out for a simple tossed salad, unable to just sit idly by and watch Jim do all the work. The younger man had also sliced some bread and popped it into the oven after smothering it with his own special garlic sauce. When the bread and spaghetti got close to being done, Simon set the dishes out while Jim put the noodles, meat, and sauce together and brought it over to the table. Everything went as smoothly as it always did when the two of them worked side by side in the kitchen until they actually started eating. 

"Hey, this is really good, Jim," Simon complimented after swallowing an appreciative mouthful of noodles. "Different, though. Did you add something new?" 

"Yeah," Jim nodded, holding up his own forkful of spaghetti. "I finally sweetalked Marciano down in Records to give me that old family recipe of hers for the sauce. Thought you might like it." He popped the bite into his mouth. 

And promptly started gagging on it. Snatching up his glass of iced tea, Jim quickly gulped down its entire contents, did the same with Simon's glass, then staggered up out of his chair and got some water. His startled dinner partner followed him over to the sink, demanding to know what was wrong. 

"God, why didn't you warn me about that?!" Jim growled between gasps. 

Simon stared at him, confusion clearly written across his face. "About what?" 

"How spicy that was! Damn near burnt my mouth off!" 

Brow wrinkling in bewilderment, Simon shook his head. "It wasn't that hot, Jim." 

Grabbing him by one arm, Jim dragged the older man back to the table. Stabbing up a forkful of noodles, he thrust it at Simon and demanded, "Then _you_ eat it!" 

Not understanding the sudden change in Jim's demeanor at all, Simon meekly did as requested. And was further confused. This spaghetti tasted just as his had. It had a spicy tang to it, but not nearly enough to cause such an extreme reaction. Especially not from a man who thrived on jalapenos and other tastebud-annihilating foods. He told Jim as much. 

Jim could not believe him! How could he not taste _that_? Scooping up another bite of the spaghetti, he recklessly shoved it into his mouth and waited. Nothing. Stunned, he took another bite. Still nothing. "Simon, I _know_ what I tasted! It burned!" 

The captain took a deep breath. "Okay, okay, just calm down here a minute. Was there anything in the sauce recipe that you haven't eaten before?" 

Jim stalked back into the kitchen and searched through the box of recipes until he found the recent addition. Quickly scanning the card, he shook his head. "No, nothing new." 

Simon reluctantly asked his next question. "Do you think this might have something to do with whatever's going on with your sight and hearing? Maybe it's affecting taste, too?" 

That brought the younger man up short. It was bad enough his eyes and ears were betraying him at crucial moments, but to have his sense of taste whack out on him, too, was not something he wanted to contemplate. And if three of his senses were messed up, how long before the other two followed? His mouth tightened into a hard line as he shrugged. 

"Do you want me to take you to the emergency room?" Simon asked softly. 

"No," Jim answered disgustedly. "There's nothing they can do except run tests, and I'm already having that done tomorrow. Guess it'll just have to wait until then." 

Simon ran a gentle hand down his lover's arm. "You're sure?" 

"Yeah," the afflicted man said sharply, pulling away from the touch. "Let's just finish eating." 

The mood spoiled, both men finished their meals in silence, and just as silently cleaned up. As Simon was drying and putting away the last dish, Jim turned to him and murmured, "I'm sorry, Simon." 

"It's okay, Jim," the dark man replied quietly. "It's been a long day for both of us. Why don't we call it an early night? Things have _got_ to look better after some sleep." 

"Yeah, maybe," Jim shrugged wearily. "You go ahead on up. I'll get things squared away down here and join you." 

Nodding acquiescence, Simon trudged across the living room and on up the stairs to the loft bedroom. As quickly as tired muscles would allow, he stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed. A few minutes later, Jim, after making sure all the doors were locked and all the lights were off, followed him. Earlier arguments pushed aside for the moment, the two lovers curled up close to each other, sharing warmth and companionship and love as they surrendered the battle to Morpheus and fell asleep. 

* * *

Simon woke suddenly, eyes and ears automatically scanning the room for what had disturbed his slumber. Nothing. Sitting up as quietly as he could, he reached over to shake Jim awake and found that his partner was no longer in the bed with him. At the same time he made this discovery, a low, moaning sound rose from the lower part of the apartment. Hurriedly throwing a robe over his boxers, the big man stealthily crept down the stairs towards the living area of the loft. 

There he found Jim. The younger man was pacing the floor like a wild beast trapped in a too small cage and muttering to himself. What little clothing he'd worn to bed had been torn off and flung haphazardly about the living room. His hands were twitching spastically from his eyes to his ears to his nose as if all three were causing him pain, but he couldn't decide which hurt the worst. Blood from great, claw-like slashes, black in the half-moon glow glittering through the balcony windows, crawled down Jim's chest and face. 

Thoroughly shocked by his lover's appearance, Simon didn't consider the possible consequences of his next actions. Snatching up the afghan folded neatly over the back of the couch, knowing that Jim had to be cold and probably in shock, the captain approached the younger man cautiously and tried to get the cover around his shoulders. 

He never expected the violence of Jim's reaction. Exploding in a whirlwind of fists and feet, the former Army Ranger launched himself at his perceived attacker. Caught totally by surprise, the larger man had no chance to protect himself as he was expertly caught and hurled away from the man he was trying to help. His brief flight ended abruptly as his back and head connected with a thud against one of the large oak support beams. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of Simon, and he collapsed, dazed, at the base of the beam. Satisfied that his opponent was down, Jim once more resumed his wild, random pacing and mumbling. 

It was several long minutes before the ringing in Simon's ears toned down enough for him to understand the words the stricken man was uttering. Sitting up as unobtrusively as he could, the dark man listened as Jim raved about painfully confusing scents, sights, and sounds that no one should be able to sense. Simon felt himself begin to panic. Whatever was going on with the younger man was way beyond the scope of his abilities to help with. He was a cop, dammit, not a doctor. He should have made Jim check himself into a hospital until the doctors had figured out what was wrong with him. He should have taken him to the emergency room when he had that reaction to dinner tonight. He should have - 

Simon shook himself roughly out of his frightened daze and took a deep, calming breath. This might be a medical or psychological emergency that he was not trained to handle; but he _was_ a police captain trained to deal with volatile situations, and no one knew Jim Ellison half as well as he did. Besides, he was all the younger man had at the moment. He quickly clamped down on the brief resurgence of panic that thought caused and slowly climbed to his feet. 

Speaking in the same soft, controlled tone he had used in his days as a hostage negotiator, Simon stood patiently still until Jim's pacing first slowed, then stopped all together and the other man cocked his head to one side, listening. Only then did the big man move, inch by inchworm inch, towards Jim. Jim didn't seem to sense his approach at first, his eyes scrunched painfully closed and listening hard to Simon's words as if they were the answer to all his problems; but when the dark man was close enough to feel how chilled his skin was, Simon suddenly found himself pinned by a lost, bright blue stare. He froze. 

With a muffled shriek, the smaller man stumbled back, pressing himself up against the wall and sliding sideways along it until he could go no further. Resuming his quiet talking, Simon followed him carefully, not wanting to end up thrown across the room again. He stopped when he was just outside Jim's reach and studied him as best he could in the moonlight. The blood flow had eased to a sluggish trickle, and Simon couldn't see any other obvious injuries. 

Shock and those damned out of control senses seemed to be the worst of what Jim was suffering. He was shivering with an almost violent intensity, but whether from cold or fear or both, the older man couldn't be sure. Unsure of what to do, since the incident with the afghan went _so_ well, Simon stood there stymied a moment until he remembered something he'd heard at a first aid seminar a while ago. Something about how skin-to-skin contact was not only a good way to get someone warm fast, but it was also a great comfort to a person suffering from some kinds of trauma. Maybe if he could get Jim to accept his touch, it would work in this situation. It certainly qualified as trauma! 

Softly explaining what he was doing the whole time, Simon slowly divested himself of his robe and boxers and let them fall. Jim had closed his eyes again, but at the sound of the clothes hitting the floor, the bright blue orbs popped open. This time, Simon didn't let the rampant emotions he saw there stop him from his mission. Meeting that terrified gaze with one filled with love and compassion, he took one, then two, then three small steps until his naked skin tenderly caressed that of his hurting lover. Jim flinched at the contact, his head rearing back in fear. Still talking softly, Simon swiftly caught the other man's head in his two large hands before he cracked it against the wall behind him, knowing this time what he risked by touching him and willing to risk it to keep this man from hurting further. 

But Jim didn't explode into violence at the gesture. Instead, some of the unreasoning terror receded a bit in those blue eyes, enough so that Jim - _his_ Jim - actually seemed to be looking at him. Before Simon could act on the opportunity, Jim's eyes slid shut with an eerie kind of finality, and with a great, body-long shudder, the younger man collapsed heavily into his lover's arms. 

Supporting the blood-and-sweat-slicked body as gently as he could, Simon eased them both to the hard wood floor. After a bit of maneuvering, the dark man sat with his back to the wall with as much of himself wrapped around Jim as he could get and resumed his soft litany of reassurances. When the smaller man continued to shiver uncontrollably, Simon began rocking him in an ages-old rhythm of comfort. 

Eventually, the older man's efforts were rewarded as Jim's breathing finally calmed to a sleep-slow rate. Carefully pressing his mate's head closer against his chest, Simon rested his chin lightly on the top of that head and thought hard about their options. He was _way_ out of his depth here. He was willing to do whatever it took to help Jim, but Jim needed professional help as well. And right at this moment, Simon didn't care where that help came from as long as it worked. 

'Even if,' he thought as his dark brown gaze fell on the kitchen counter where Jim had tossed the anthropologist's card, 'it comes from an unlikely source.' He carded his fingers soothingly through the short hair tucked under his chin as the younger man shifted uneasily in his sleep. 'Tomorrow. Tomorrow, we're going to go see this Blair Sandburg.' 

* * *

The beginning?

 


End file.
